The Sponge Quorum II: The Tunnels of Abarack
by Duruznik
Summary: Contact with many villages is lost, and King Theldes of Lyrasia resorts to sending the mediocre Sponge Quorum to investigate. But behind the scenes, a legend arises from the mists of time through a network of mysterious tunnels...
1. Introduction

Welcome to the second installment of "The Sponge Quorum" series: "The Tunnels of Abarack" and to the first part of a trilogy of stories titled: "The Legend of Aramam!"

DISCLAIMER: as far as I know, the horla is an invention that belongs to Johnathan Stroud, author of the terrific "Bartimaeus Trilogy".

To those who are new to the series I urge to go back and read "The Sponge Quorum I- The Beginning" in order to get acquainted with the mediocre and inept members of the gang:

**Islan Felanus:** a stubborn paladin with a constant need to uphold the law under any circumstances which has led not once to hilarious situations.

**Gilbert Apelycus:** a good natured dwarven cleric with an unfortunate tendency to both sarcasm and philosophy.

**Aradiln Thydinal**: a usually mild tempered Elvin druid who has been known to have sudden bursts of anger due to his lackluster abilities.

**Grud Toornick**: a gnome rogue with fingers that wouldn't be stickier if he covered them with glue.

**Lyra Tiberleon**: a lovely and agile young warrior- she actually volunteered to join the quorum.

**Demorish Sarlar**: a silent and taciturn wizard who covers his real features with illusions- you could die right in front of him and he wouldn't care.

Seriously- this story is a direct sequal to "The Beginning" and shouldn't be read without having completed its predecessor.

A few technical notes…

1. The monster Locathath has had its name and personality reworked a bit in my world. It's new name is Localoth and it is slightly more militaristic.

2. The great druids of Gaiapalego don't just die, rather turn into trees, therefore living forever as plants.

3. The chief cleric and the grand druid of Lyrasia are the central leaders of the clerics and druids (respectively) of the continent.

Now.. what does the future hold for our unfortunate adventurers? The king of Lyrasia needs their help with something, but behind the scenes lies something else… this is the beginning of something far greater…

Of course I thank my beta'er (Aradiln Thydinal's player) and to the rest of the players in the real-life D&D group- without you this story would be filled with more plot holes than Swiss cheese!

And now, on with the story!


	2. Behind Gal

Chapter 1

**A/N: So, here is the first chapter of my new story; this one is shaping up to be a real scorcher! Stay tuned for more.**

**On a more technical note: the god Zeznind is the Gaiapalegan equivalent of Zeus, or the creator. All the people of gaiapalego share the same pantheon because _their_ gods are undisputed science fact.**

* * *

5 billion years ago, the god Zednind passed by the remains of an exploded star and had a sudden idea. He quickly gathered as much stardust as he could and, with a bit of a squeeze, condensed the cloud into a small planet. In that planet, he planted a seed. The seed of life.

Millions of years later, that seed had grown a small shell to protect itself and started to multiply in order to conquer this new world. Over billions of years the type of shell the seed used evolved and it began competing with its siblings over the planet. The shell evolved even further and soon the seed had to remind the shell that it was in fact just a shell, and not more important than the seed itself. The shell learned to ignore this.

One day a certain shell which had fur, opposable thumbs, a tail, and went 'ook', decided to try walking on two feet and decided it quite liked this arrangement. Over thousands of years it started making tools with its now free hands and even began communicating with its fellows with more articulated sounds than 'ook'. It began naming the other creatures, itself, and even its world. It called itself 'human'.

These new 'humans' thought themselves to be above all other creatures, but as is common in these situations, the truth was quite the opposite. Humans were _idiots_.

.o.O.0.O.o.

The six people who were perfect for proving this were currently meeting the king of idiots- or rather the king of Lyrasia.

King Theldes of Lyrasia was not a bad king. He knew his people, having, unlike many other kings, actually been born in his country, and so knew what really bothered them. He did his best to help his country, and his subjects, who were very practical, let him stay as king. They reasoned that a king who fails to please is better than a king who manages to displease.

At least, that was their approach until recently…

Theldes massaged his temples, then looked up at his guests.

"Yes?"

Islan knelt down on one knee, giving the others a meaningful look to do likewise. Gilbert slipped as he kneeled.

"Your Majesty, I have traveled all the way from the southern moors in order to answer your summons. What is it you wish to see me about?"

The king raised an eyebrow at the group. "And who are…these?"

Islan gave the rest a worries look. "Um…"

Aradiln stood up. "We are…" His forehead wrinkled, and then he remembered the secretary's words. "We are the Sponge Quorum, your Majesty." Gilbert and Lyra gave him an incredulous look. "We traveled here together, and haven't yet separated ways."

Theldes nodded. "Good. Don't. You will need all the help you can get." He said, turning to Islan.

He steepled his fingers, looking at the Quorum over them. "Three months ago, we lost contact with the village of Yanning, in the center of Ingen forest. Many villages quickly joined the list: Brinnig, Merter, Lummonam, Catlib – the list goes on. We soon found ourselves out of touch with every single village in the area. Next thing, big cities like Ephrea and Ginthern went silent. We are now receiving reports from only 23 settlements in all of Lyrasia. There may not be any armies at our door, but Gal is definitely under siege."

The king looked down at Islan. "I therefore charge you, Sir Islan Felanus, to go to Ingen forest, accompanied by these five fine warriors, and find out what is causing these villages to go quiet. If you can, stop it. If you can't, return here and I shall send larger forces ."

Aradiln looked panic-stricken. "Um, your Majesty, the forest of Ingen is full of maddened creatures, no doubt for the same reasons that the villages are being silenced…are you _sure_ it is safe?"

Theldes stared out of a window as he answered. "No, but soon I fear that nowhere shall be safe…"

.o.O.0.O.o.

Islan unfolded a very official-looking piece of parchment. "Now, I have all the details here…the king has put you two," he raised his eyebrows at Grud and Demorish, "on probation. If you help us with our mission he is willing to grant you a…full pardon." He grimaced. "Gods help us then…"

Aradiln and Gilbert both started heading down a side road, away from the rest of the group. Islan looked up at them.

"Where are you two going?"

Gilbert looked at him. "Aradiln needs to go see the grand druid, and I need to go see the chief cleric. You remember? Those were the reasons we came here in the first place." He looked uncomfortable. "I mean, we will be back here in an hour or so, and we will still be going with you to the forest, but…(…)we need to check some things first."

"Oh," said Islan, "Alright then."

.o.O.0.O.o.

It took Aradiln quite a while to make it out of the city and up the steep and rocky slopes of Mt. Graighon, the colossal mountain that loomed over the capital. It was the tallest in all of Lyrasia.

He finally made it to an old and crumbling temple, cut into the mountain side. It was absolutely covered in moss and vines, and in its shadows he could make out a figure. It was an elf, wizened and hunched, dressed in a simple white robe. The grand druid of all of Mezoia.

Aradiln walked up to the old man, kneeled over and bowed. "Oh, grand druid of the forests, monarch of the flora, councilor of trees, I seek your guidance in a personal matter." The old man said nothing, so Aradiln continued. "Many years ago I came to you and requested my own patch, and you denied me it. Instead you apprenticed me to Jarred the druid and, when he died, I inherited his patch, as our code dictates. Now, that patch has been violated, and I stand before you today in request for a new one." Aradiln looked up at the elf, waiting for his verdict.

The ancient druid took a long time to think, his wrinkled brow contracting as he contemplated the decision. Finally, he spoke:

"I see you have indeed grown up, young Thyrdinal, but you yet have a long way to go before you are ready for your own land." He looked deep into Aradiln's eyes. "You still have much turmoil inside you, and much to learn. Your soul is not yet ready to settle. Therefore, you must go forth and travel the land, join your friends in their quest for truth and save this city. In doing so, you will learn much about the nature of your mind, and the nature of the world."

The old man's eyes were suddenly filled with pain. "And now, it seems the hour has come for me to unite with nature. My time has come." With that, his feet began to harden and broaden, turning the color of bark.

Aradiln was filled with sorrow and shock. "Master…" He then bowed his head in acceptance. "Thank you for your guidance."

The druid smiled, and then hardened into a short and thick tree, covered in knots and warped branches. Aradiln turned and left the hall, a frown slapped across his face.

.o.O.0.O.o.

At the same time - or around the same time, for time _is_ relative, after all – Gilbert made his way to the great temple of Moradin in the central plaza, in order to inform the chief cleric of Drezner's activities.

Unfortunately, as soon as he got there and took one look inside he saw a familiar and not too welcome figure: tall with short black hair and covered in finery, Drezner the cleric was chatting with the high priest.

Gilbert was not happy.

In fact, he was so unhappy that he viciously kicked a vase to smithereens. That bastard was always twenty-seven steps ahead of them! The kick did of course not help the situation in the slightest, but Gilbert felt it had really helped him on the inside. He reflected on this as he tore down the street, trying his best not to scream.

He finally managed to locate the rest of the group, saw that Aradiln had returned as well and gave them the bad news: Drezner had managed to infiltrate Gal.

They had to leave immediately.


	3. End of the Road

Chapter 2

**A/N: Hmm… well, this chapter has come together in bits and pieces, so I hope you like it.**

**A technical note: a horla is a terrible demon, which resembles a wispy, scaly woman. A terrifying spirit, it usually swallows its human pray whole, like a succubus. A disclaimer for it has been added to the introduction.**

**In other news: Ignoring Paladins has been medically proven to be good for your health. Just though you should know.**

* * *

The forest of Ingen had never been a good place to settle in. The forest simply refused to be tamed. Since the earliest days of the Lyrasian monarchy the kings tried to establish major trade routes through it, build large cities, and attempt to open a successful markets there. The result was a large collection of small dirt-poor and poor dirty villages.

The Quorum was currently headed to the one nearest to the capital: End Village.

"So, any ideas what we actually do once we reach this place?" asked Lyra. "We can hardly ask: 'Hello, have you been conquered by a mysterious enemy?'"

Grud clicked his fingers at her. "One word, princess: espionage. Snoop around the right places, ask the right questions and the world is your oyster."

They were on a road that curved around the base of Mt Graighon southwards towards the forest. No one seemed to have followed them from Gal, and they were feeling slightly optimistic that perhaps they had managed to leave unnoticed.

"There it is!" yelled Aradiln, as they went around yet another bend and found the village behind it.

The term "village" hardly seemed appropriate, though. The first half-dozen buildings were in ruins, and those which still had intact windows kept them boarded shut.

"Why is everybody staring at us?" Whispered Lyra.

Indeed, every person in the street was staring at them with blank, mournful eyes.

"A cloud hangs over this cesspool," murmured Demorish.

They walked slowly down the road, huddled together. Islan's hand was on the hilt of his sword, and Grud had loaded his crossbow, finger ready on the trigger. Suddenly, a hand reached out and Lyra by the arm. Years of city life, however, do not pass over a girl without her learning a thing or two, and a well-aimed kick produced a yelp from her assailant, making the others turn around.

"What's the big idea?!" yelled Lyra.

Besides them stood an aging man, balding and hunched over, rubbing himself. He gave a panicky look down the street before whispering: "Inside. Not safe." And hurrying into the nearest building.

"My name is Bram," he said. "Barley industry." He held out his hand.

Islan did not shake it. "What do you want?"

Bram lowered his hand. "It isn't safe here, nowhere is. Everywhere is now under Drezner rule."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "Drezner rule?"

"Yes," said Bram. "About a month ago, a cleric known as Drezner showed up at the village doorstep with an army of orcs and goblins. We had no choice but to surrender, and since then Drezner's been taxing us to the ground. Those who couldn't pay…" he gestured helplessly at the burnt buildings outside the window.

"Why didn't you send for help?" asked Ardiln.

"We tried. Twenty-seven times. The tweny-seventh messenger was the local wizard, but when he saw Drezner swooping down on him, he summoned a Horla to kill himself instead of facing the cleric." The poor man looked miserable. "You lot are obviously out of town. How is it out there? Has he conquered Gal yet?"

"No, he hasn't," said Demorish.

"Oh," Bram looked at the tall and cool wizard apprehensively. "Well, I suppose that's something. Can you do anything?"

Gilbert exchanged glances with Aradiln. "Well, we--"

Suddenly, a knock was heard at the door. Or rather, the sound was more that procured when slamming two heads together.

Not a good analogy, considering the situation.

Islan and Lyra quickly snuck up to stand on either side of the doorways, hands on the hilts of their swords. Gilbert and Aradiln drew their weapons, Grud cocked his crossbow and Demorish retreated into the shadows, a faint glow enaminating from his hands.

At that point an ogre, hulking and menacing slammed the door open. He had a sash which marked him as a tax collector, and a pouch at his hip for money.

"Taxes," he rumbled, swinging his club at his side.

Bram stood bravely in front of the intruder, saying, "I have already paid this week, you can ask at the hall."

The ogre's expression changed slightly, but still remained that dull stupid look which said: _I can't walk and talk at the same time_. "Taxes gone up this week. Two more silver pieces."

"But I can't afford that!" Bram managed to say through his sweat.

At that point Islan jumped on the giant's back, trying to slash at its head. The ogre roared and threw him to the ground, where Gilbert was swinging his warhammer at the giant. Grud's crossbow twanged as he let a bolt loose at the ogre's knee, and Demorish seemed to be playing with the giant's retinas like pianos.

One might expect the group to have a dramatic and very heroic victory over the ogre, which would in turn bring them all closer together. This might well have happened, but unfortunately the poor giant's mind could only take a certain amount of stress- the mental equivalent of an average paperweight- and so it simply shut down. The pathetic thing gurgled a bit then collapsed on the floor.

"Did we win?" Asked Lyra as Grud bent over the ogre.

Gilbert opened one of it's eyes. "Brain damage," he stated.

Islan frowned. "Weird."

Grud straitened up from the suddenly bag-less ogre. "So, where next?"

"I think it's obvious," growled Islan. " I say we go down to the village hall and get rid of the person in charge of all this mess."

Gilbert looked alarmed. "What?"

"We can't just leave these people like this!" Shouted Islan.

"No, but do you really expect Drezner will be there? It'll just be a minion. We need to move on and cut the plant at it's root- if we take back this city Drezner will simply retake it in a week. The only way to ensure freedom to these people is by getting rid of Drezner himself."

Aradiln stood by Gilbert. "I'm with Gilbert on this one. We have no hope of liberating this village right now."

Islan looked from face to face, and saw unanimous agreement.

"We have to lose this battle if we want to win the war," said Lyra softly. "I'm sorry Islan, but we must move on."

Bram looked miserable. "I guess you lot are right…"

Aradiln put his hand on his shoulder. "We will come back."

"We need to find one of their bases. Does Drezner have some kind of camp anywhere near here?" asked Gilbert.

Bram nodded. "As a matter of fact, yeah. Follow me."

They all left the building, except Islan, who yelled half heartedly, "You know, I never actually agreed on leaving the village… " he sighed. "Oh, forget it…"

.o.O.0.O.o.

"There it is."

They were all crouching in the thick bushes a few hundred feet into Ingen forest. Just beyond them a small camp held enough goblins and orcs to be inconvenient.

"How do we get in?" asked Lyra.

Grud clicked his fingers in her face again. "I really don't want to repeat myself, princess. Just leave it all to me and cheery here." He gestured at Demorish.

The rest of them looked at Demorish. He wasn't cheery.

Grud snuck into the clearing, zipping from tent to tent, barrel to barrel. Behind him Demorish strolled in with a confidence only achievable by wearing an illusion of an ogre. Which he did. Needless to say, all the goblins and orcs gave him a wide berth, and some of them even saluted him.

Stopping at the main tent, Demorish quickly lifted the canvas long enough for Grud to slink inside before he retreated to the trees and transformed back to his 6-foot version of himself.

Meanwhile, Grud appraised the inside of the tent. Enough silks and other finery hung there to keep him busy for over an hour, but he knew the occupant could return at any moment. Pocketing only the more valuable and small items, he searched the desk for a map, found it, and snuck out the back and into the bushes outside camp.

"Got it," he said to the others. Only after the Quorum had headed back to a spot further away from the camp did Grud unfurl the map.

"Wait, what is this mark?" asked Lyra, examining the map.

"Yeah, what's that thing that the trail seems to start at? Some kind of black circle?" ventured Gilbert.

"Be damned if I knew," said Islan.

Gilbert clapped his hands together. "Well, I guess there's only one way to find out! We'd better get going."

Goodbyes were made, packs hitched, and they were off.

.o.O.0.O.o.

They had already made camp for the night some yards off the beaten track, and Grud was supposed to have taken first watch. Naturally he fell asleep, therefore proving to be about as trustworthy as any other rogue in existence.

He woke up presently because of the rocking motion. He sat up to see what the source of it was and saw that their camp was still there, but the actual ground wasn't. the rest of the group and himself were being carried on the backs of the most curious creatures. He yelled, of course, and the creatures dropped them all very suddenly. Everyone was groaning when a dryad, bare and bark colored as any one of her kind, stepped out from the shadows.

"Follow me," she stated, more of a prediction than an order. "You must stop it."

Islan exchanged glances with Gilbert. "Um.. I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"You must follow me," the dryad whispered. "Out of it came all the evil in this forest, and into it you must go. It is terrible and great. It is the forestbane."

* * *

**ANOTHER A/N: Wow! 1700 words! Not too shabby! For all those whose brains strain after two minutes of reading, I can assure the next chapter will be significantly shorter, and sooner.**

**About the ogre in this chapter: most ogres are indeed stronger than this one - as in, they don't collapse because confusion. Let's just say tha this one was... the runt of the litter, OK?**

**Stay tuned.**


	4. Forestbane

Chapter 3

**A/N: well, this one_ is_ shorter.**

**I know my fight scenes have been... well, lackluster, so I'm trying to improve on them. Don't expect an immediate change, but I hope that they will slowly improve.**

**About the Darkmantles: I'm not sure if this is true about the ones in the monster manual, but the ones in Gaiapalego revieve nourishment by sucking, much like leeches.**

**As for pronounciation: Galandose is pronounced GA--LAN--DOSE, Abarack is A--BA--RACK and Goldpeiers are GOLD--PAY--ERS.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Imagine that there was a man who was going to visit the Galandose swamps in the south of the continent, but because of his terrible sense of direction, he would have ended up in Ingen forest. He would walk on the main path, looking for the way out, when he would notice a strange glow to his right, some way into the trees. He would go look, and would stumble upon a strange sight indeed.

Half a dozen adventurers, varying in gender, race and age, following a petite woman apparently made of bark, surrounded by the most curious creatures. They would have a rat-like face, with a short trunk. Large legs stuck out of their sides with three toes at the end of each one, with a bald rat's tail and natural armour covered in a thick dull gold liquid.

But, it just so happens that tourism to the Galandose swaps is very sparse at this time of year, so never mind.

.o.O.0.O.o.

Gilbert ran up to the dryad, who was in front leading the way. They were completely surrounded by the strange creatures.

"So, how long 'til we reach this 'Forestbane', eh?" He asked conversationally. The dryad simply looked at him, not uttering a word. Gilbert changed tack. "These creatures, what are they?"

"They are known to little, appearing mostly in legends and ancient texts," she replied. "They are most commonly referred to as Goldpeiers, after the gold they secrete in between their armour plates. These, however, are not the prime examples of their species. They come in all sizes, some as big as mountains. Others have silver armour, or long ears, or barbs."

At this point Gilbert looked down to see hundreds of tiny Goldpeiers, no bigger than mice, running between his feet. He gulped at the idea of mountain-sized ones. "Just these will do for now, I think."

A bit behind them, Grud and Demorish were both looking at the lights that lined their path, which seemed to be torches that burned with flames that did not consume the branches on which they sat. Demorish was wondering if he could learn that kind of useful spell, while Grud was thinking of trying to start a "cold flame" business. The profits were making him giddy. Or was he coming down with something? Nope, definitely the profits.

Just behind them, the paladin was trying to master his hormones.

Islan looked awkwardly at the shorter, thinner, long haired figure to his right.

_Just do it…._

He took the smaller hand in his own, when the figure spoke:

"Um, Islan?"

"Yes?"

"You really don't need to hold my hand, you know. I'm not afraid, though Lyra might be."

"Ah, sorry, Aradiln, I didn't think it was you."

"Very poor lighting here."

Lyra rolled her eyes at the two of them, too amused to be annoyed at the obvious chauvinism.

.o.O.0.O.o.

Eventually the path they were headed down opened up to a large clearing. In its center stood several large rocks, a couple of stories in height, leaning against each other. They had the appearance of having been raised out of the ground by a power other than conventional tectonics.

The dryad stopped in front of it and turned to face the group. "There it is - the Forestbane. The armies of distant lands use it to enter the forest, and you must follow it to its source in order to destroy it. "

Islan look at the immense rocks and saw that in their crook was a gap, which seemed to lead down. He looked at the others' scared faces and thought: they're not afraid because they aren't brave, they're scared because they are clever enough to understand where this is leading. Maybe we should turn back?

Just then Grud started towards the opening. "Well, the last one down is a piece of—" He then accidentally ran into Islan, who grabbed Lyra's hand, who's own hand then accidentally looped around Aradiln's elbow, and they all fell down the tunnel. Gilbert tripped over one of the goldpeiers and fell too.

When they hit the bottom, the dryad's last words still echoed in the caves. "You must follow them to their end, these tunnels of Abarack.'

.o.O.0.O.o.

Several hours later they found themselves bruised, tired and very annoyed in a particularly damp stretch of tunnel. Stalactites dripped onto stalagmites, creepy crawlies crawled and creeped in a creepy fashion, and tempers ran high.

"Say, Grud, why on Gaiapalego did you have to trip us all up?" snapped Gilbert, holding the rock he chose to cast light on high up.

"If I remember right, shorty, you managed to do just fine without my help," retorted the irate gnome.

"Guys, if we all just relax we can—" Started Islan. "Wait, is that stalactite looking at us?"

Several of said stalactites were indeed blinking in their direction. They then detached themselves from the ceiling with a distinctive _schploitch_. The darkmantles - for indeed, that was what they were - descended on the group like, well, mantles.

Islan quickly unsheathed his sword, and then had to deal with the fact that a darkmantle had latched on to his back and was sucking. Gilbert jumped on, desperately trying to yank to thing off while the paladin shouted "Gettitoff! Gettitoff!"

Demorish was quickly cornered by two darkmantles, but a well- placed acid splash made quick work of one of them, the other receiving a thick wooden staff on it's head.

Grud shot several bolts at the nearest one, and as it squealed aradiln hacked at it with his scimitar. Just then, Islan and Gilbert blundered through, knocking aradiln over as they tried to free the paladin's back. Lyra, meanwhile, was trying to stab the darkmantle that was attacking her while trying to avoid its attaching to her.

After Islan managed to get the darkmantle off his back, he turned around to see it disappear in the shadows. The others did likewise, and aradiln had just enough time to look up and say "Water…" before the actual stalactites the darkmantles had been wrapped around exploded. The ceiling collapsed under the force of the water that flowed down on them, and the entire quorum was washed away in a maelstrom of water, rock and squealing darkmantle.

Just how far they were carried - it was hard to tell, but eventually the flow weakened and they were left to drip on the floor.

"Oh, crap" said Grud, muffled by Islan's behind. He then looked up to see several shadowy figures approaching holding torches in their robed hands.

"Gar og nadrak," he said to them. "Wagga bub na."

Gilbert looked at him oddly. "Um, Grud, what are you doing?"

"Talking to these here goblins."

"But, they're dwarves…"

"Dwarves?! But I thought they were goblins!" Exclaimed the gnome in a panicky tone.

"What's the big deal?" asked Islan. "Just talk to them in dwarvish now."

"I would, but they must already think we're allied to goblins, and as you all know, dwarves hate goblins."

"So, that means – ow!" Lyra fell to the ground. Another cloaked dwarf had come up from behind and knocked her out with a club.

"Lyra! Ohhh…" Islan groaned as he too was hit over the head. His eyesight mingled with his evil detection, and everything was painted in blue and red for an instant, distorted through the water still in his eyes. He then fell to the ground.

The three remaining adventurers tried in vain to fight the attackers back, but, one by one scimitar, crossbow and warhammer fell, and one by one the adventurers were captured.

Aradiln watched as both his shorter companions were forced to inhale some strange gas. He yelled as they both fell to the ground, and then everything went black.


	5. The Betrayal of Grandheim

Chapter 4

**A/N: ****Hey,**** sorry about the nearly two-month-long hiatus, but I had a small case of writer's block. What can I say? I suppose it's a decent chapter, but I don't like it too much.**

**A note on pronunciation: Even though "Rig****le" could be pronounced REE-JELL, this one is pronounced REE-GUL.**

**Mt. Karboa (KAR-BOA) is the tallest mountain on Gaiapalego,**** is located to the south of Lyrasia, and is about 10 miles high, which means it's over twice the h****e****ight of Mt. Everest.**

**Maranire (MA-RA-NEER) is the name of the continent on which this story happens. Lyrasia is at the northern part of the continent, to its north is ****Levit**** sea( LEV-IT), separating it from the northern continent. Some people may have confused this with Mezoia, which was mentioned earlier in the story. The name's been changed, so forget anything you might remember about "Mezoia", you hear?**

**Rahadin**** is pronounced RA-HA-DIN.**

**Terrend is pronounced TER-END.**

**Grandheim is pronounced GRAUND-HEYM.**

**On with the chapter.**

* * *

Under the sky, under the trees. Under the mountain, under the ground.

Below all these is a city. _The_ city. The city of Grandheim, and it's dark.

.o.O.0.O.o.

Islan woke up, his head feeling like it had been used to break down Gal's palace gates. Twice.

"Oh, you're awake?" said Aradiln. "We were just deciding who would wake you up."

Islan sat up on his elbows to see…nothing. Absolute darkness greeted him, out of which came his companions' voices.

"Wha? Where? Dark?" He grumbled in his semi-conscious stupor.

"We're all here," said Gilbert's voice out of the darkness. "But only I can really see, and Aradiln can only see fuzzy shapes. The rest of you are all blind in here."

Islan tried standing up, only for his head to collide with something big, hard and overall, painful. The ceiling couldn't be more than 5 feet high!

"Watch your head…"

"Yeah, thanks…" moaned the knight. "But where are we?"

"In a… oh, hang on…" He heard Gilbert mutter something and then there was light all around him, illuminating the entire cavern and emanating from the small pebble in Gilbert's hand.

"There," said the dwarf.

They were actually not in a low-ceilinged cavern, as Islan had first suspected, but rather in a very small cell. He could see Demorish and Lyra bent over, wary of the obscenely low ceiling.

""How… long's it been?" He asked, while trying to shake his head clear.

"My guess is, a few hours, no more." came the dwarf's answer.

"Thanks." Islan looked around outside the barred door of their cell. "You still haven't answered me. Where are we?"

Demorish joined him at the door, squinting out into the gloom. Slowly, their eyes got used to the dark and they could see more than a few feet away. They were at the top of a slope, near the limits of the strangest city one could imagine. Several yards away, the ground itself started curving up to meet the walls of rock, which extended up into the darkness above. Gilbert's spell wasn't the only source of light, but the brightest one for sure. The buildings had small windows that poured light onto empty streets. Here and there dark shapes went about their business, but except for them the lace was deserted.

"This city is carved into the floor and walls of an underground cavern," said the wizard. "Fascinating."

"Yeah," grunted Gilbert. "Welcome to Grandheim."

.o.O.0.O.o.

Soon half a dozen shadows arrived at the door. They were dwarves dressed in the same odd robes as the ones who had captured the group, all holding long, sharp axes. They opened the cell, and gestured for the adventurers to come out.

Gilbert gave the rest of the group all a meaningful look and went out, the rest of them following him. The guards led them down the narrow streets, towards the lowest part of the city, at its center. A great terraced pyramid rose out of the ground, more ornate than the other roves. They were led through thick, grand double doors into a brighter place. They went through corridor after corridor, all embossed with heavy rubies and sapphires, until they reached two large, impressive doors, each emblazoned with the same magnificent coat of arms, covered in gems as large as fists. The doors clearly radiated power and bad taste, the kind only the richest of monarchs could have.

They went through a side door.

The guards left them there, and shut the door. Aradiln turned to Gilbert and exclaimed, "Right, now what the hell is all this about?!"

Gilbert sat down on one of the many crates that filled the room.

"Grandheim is the center of mountain dwarf power in the Lyrasian area. Its king really only answers to mount Karboa, where the king of all western dwarves lives. What you saw out there, it's just the roof. The real city is here. Thousands of narrow, claustrophobic tunnels that link between homes. The people of this city keep mainly to themselves, slowly digging deep into the mountain. Those robed types who captured us, they're the king's personal guard: the Rahadin. We didn't really stand a chance against them, they're the best warriors under the land. I expect they're gonna show us to their king, and try us for something."

"But why?" Exclaimed Aradiln. "What've we done?!"

Gilbert shrugged. "Dunno. But there's no way we can escape. We might as well wait there."

Islan looked furious. "They can't do this to us! They have no right!"

Gilbert Looked at him. "Why? The king of Grandheim rules over all the mountain dwarves of Maranire."

"So, he's your king?" asked Islan.

"Of course not!" snapped the dwarf. "I'm a hill dwarf, and we answer only Mt. Karboa! We don't have any great cities like Grandheim. We're not like you humans," he snarled. "We have our own ways. Dwarves always follow tradition, always do their duty, never changing." He looked sour at this.

"You don't seem too happy about that," said Lyra.

"No…" Gilbert started tugging at his beard absentmindedly. "This city is the perfect example of what's holding the dwarves back… Old, tyrannous kings that nobody cares to question, dwarves going about their lives never asking whether things are right or wrong- that's the way organizations like the Rahadin can continue to exist. Nobody cares. My father was actually trying to get the people of my village to start thinking for themselves- that's what Moradin really wants- but then along came Drezner and wrecked it all."

Well, that's the problem," remarked Lyra drily. "People aren't thinking, making them easy bait for—for gods' sake Grud, can you try not looting everything you come across?!"

Grud emerged from one of the crates he had pried open, looking disgusted. "Hold yer horses princess, they're all fulla nothing but documents, anyway."

Noticing a familiar symbol on the documents, Islan leapt to his feet from the stool he had dragged up. "Let me see that!"

He snatched one of the documents and scanned it, his face paling with each line. "Oh hell, looks like Drezner's getting inside help from this city. Some guy named Rigle."

"Wait," said Lyra, raising her hand. "Doesn't it seem a bit odd that the Rahadin would leave us in a room with incriminating documents?"

Islan shrugged. "Maybe they don't know about them? After all, they're only soldiers.

"That is not a good development," said Demorish quietly. "It means we are about to be brought before the king of a city that has been infiltrated by Drezner the cleric."

They all looked at the thick stone doors to the room, and just then they opened up. The Rahadin were waiting for them.

Gilbert stood up and brushed off the dust. "Well, let's not keep him waiting."

.o.O.0.O.o.

As they entered the lavishly decorated throne room, a herald cried out: "All hail king Terrend XVI, wielder of Moradin's hammer, great of height, and monarch of the mountain people."

At this King Terrend walked in, sporting a grey dwarfish beard, a long, flowing cape and a belt buckle that looked as if he used it for cracking nuts.

Suddenly another dwarf came in, pushed the herald out of his way and addressed the king. He was dressed in the same type of robes as the Rahadin, though his face wasn't covered.

"Your majesty, we caught these criminals on the outskirts of the city, clearly attempting invasion."

Islan took a step forward. "Your majesty, we were doing no such thing. We're the- um, er, Sponge Quorum and—"

At this the rest of the group gave him an exasperated look, while the king consulted one of his servants.

"Erm… What exactly_ is_ a Quorum?" he mumbled.

"I believe it is the minimum number of people required to perform a given task, your majesty," responded the dwarf at his side.

"I think we were just insulted," whispered Grud to Demorish.

"Linguistics aside your majesty," began Islan, "we really need to speak to you about—"

"Enough!" shouted the king. "You are guilty of plotting to—"

"Yes, but--"

"No!"

But—"

"No!"

"Someone in your city is passing inside information to Drezner the cleric!" said Lyra loudly. She looked at all their shocked faces. "What? Somebody had to say it!"

The king spoke to her as if he was speaking to a four year old. "Little girl, If someone in my city was consorting with the enemy Drezner, the Rahadin would know about it." He turned to the dwarf dressed in Rahadin robes that had pushed the herald. "Rigle, do we know of such a conspiracy?"

Rigle gave a small smile." No, your majesty."

"See?" said the king imperiously.

"But," stammered Grud, "he _is_ the constipator! I mean considerator! I mean—"

Islan took out the form he had saved from earlier. "We have proof, your majesty."

The king looked interested, and Rigle tensed up, obviously sensing what was coming next.

Terrend XVI looked over the document.

"We found it in the storage room they kept us in while we waited to see you, your majesty." said Islan helpfully.

The king looked shocked. "My gods…" He muttered.

Rigle ran out of the room.

"Guards!" shouted the king. "Seize him!"

But Gilbert was already running full tilt out of the room, after the fleeing dwarf, with Islan and the rest of the group struggling to keep up with him. They ran out of the building, onto the deserted allies above, out of the city and up an endless flight of stairs, leading up.

Finally, Islan, Aradiln, Lyra, Grud and Demorish ran out of the tunnel, just behind Gilbert, to face a mind blowing scene.

They were on a thin bridge of rock that led into a collapsed tunnel. Rigle was trapped. Young stone giants who had escaped from their parents' eyesight were throwing boulders around, and an ongoing thunderstorm was threatening to throw them all off balance. Lightening struck at the bridge, making the rock crumble.

Rigle turned around in the direction he had come from, just in time to see six angry adventurers charging at him. From his back he drew two long, sharp axes that looked as though they could cut trough stone, if they really felt like it. He swung them at his assailants, and a thick, confused melee ensued in the rain. Islan came at him with his longsword held high, but the dwarf blocked him with one hand while parrying Lyra's attack with his other. His clothes dripping with acid from Demorish's latest spell mixed with rain, he swung his axes at Grud, who let out of the way and released a bolt into his shoulder. Gilbert was pushed back, and stayed there, muttering darkly. Things were becoming unclear as another of Demorish's spells, a ray of frost, mixed with the freezing temperature of the wind and made their fingers go numb. A second attack from Islan, Aradiln and Lyra forced Rigle to the edge of the cliff, and Islan shouted: "Give up! You have no hope of escape!" Rigle, however, didn't have time to answer as one of Grud's bolts hit him square in the chest, sending him over the edge.

The four of them looked around to see Grud sitting on the ground, looking confused, and Gilbert, standing up, with the gnome's crossbow in his hand.

Islan started shouting at him, but he just stood there, stony-faced. This was particularly worrying to the rest of them, as he always enjoyed bickering with the paladin. The dwarf remained silent as they went back down to the city, told the king what had happened—how Rigle fell unfortunately to his death—and as they exited the city with two dwarven guides, headed deeper yet into the dark, forbidding tunnels.

* * *

**A/N:**** Wow! Gilbert's gone all angsty on me! I mean, He's actually murdered a dwarf! (There is a difference between that and killing a goblin. There just is, okay?)**

**God, I really didn't want this ****chapter**** to turn out so long, it's even longer than "End of the Road"! But I promise the next one will be short ****and**** sweet. Well, short_er_****, anyway.**

**Has anyone noticed I refrain from using the word "O.K"? That's because that in a world without Morse code, words like that would never exist.**

**And everyone give a warm round of applause to my Beta'er, who decided to move overseas and needlessly complicate everything!**


	6. Whispers in the Tunnels

Chapter 5

**A/N: Crap, it's been two whole months! Return of writer's block!**

**Well, this one's gonna be shorter than the previous one, to compensate for the Goliath one coming up.**

**A note on pronouciation:**

**Retania is pronouced REE-TAY-NEE-YA.**

**Rastanua is pronounced RAS-TA-NOO-AH.**

**Minui is pronounced MEE-NOO-EE.**

* * *

To the east of Lyrasia is the Tip of the Ocean, the Guardian of the Sea (not sure about this one, any ideas?), the Retanian Peninsula, where the nation of El-Retania is found. Deep in the libraries of Rastanua, the eternal city, is a tome titled "Magrabsi Beller Rukshi", which is "Necromancy for Beginners" in the ancient tongue of the Minui, an ancient civilization that once ruled an empire that spanned the entire continent. Chapter 7 reads (in Minuan):

"Dwarves know about tunnels. The average dwarf can tell you that tunnels channel the air and sound in such a way that contains them inside, echoing forever from wall to wall.

"The experienced necromancer can tell you that souls killed by certain aggressive kinds magic may come back to haunt you.

"Since dwarves are rarely interested in raising the dead, there are very few dwarven necromancers. However, if one were handy, he could tell you that spirits behave similarly to sound in tunnels. To avoid perpetual haunting, a spellcaster must build a crucible to trap the ghosts in a specific part of the tunnel, bonding them to a magical item, to keep the rest of the tunnel free."

.o.O.0.O.o.

The tunnels were _whispering_, Islan was sure of that.

He looked from one companion to the other. It would be a miracle if they all made it out of the tunnels in one piece. It seemed that their experience back in Graundheim affected them all. If this was so difficult for them – an ominous thought, this – then what would they do when they reached the source of the tunnels? How would they fare? What if Drezner was indeed behind this? There was no way they could beat him…

Lyra was walking next to him. She was starting to wonder if joining this group was such a good idea. She wanted Drezner dead, that's for sure, and she knew he fit into this _somehow_, but after that was done… she'd better move on. She was also sure she could hear voices… whispering.

Grud was sulking, not a unique event. That bloody dwarf took his frickin' crossbow! He thought he was so cool, acting all _tallstuff_, but he should learn to take a back seat. Grud was already thinking of escape, but the promise of freedom from the law was too sweet… he could use some rest before his next big heist. His ears started to itch… something was definitely there, whispering right behind him. He was sure of it.

Demorish was bleak. Again, not a rare occurrence. He was just about sick with all the drama this group of pathetic beings had on a daily basis. His mind was made up: next town- escape. Escape from these mad tunnels, before whatever was following them attacked.

Aradiln was getting worried. He was unsure whether they would all pull through this… And whether it was worth it. All this for a patch to live out your life? There must be something more compelling out there… on top of all that, he was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable- as if something was watching him.

Gilbert was angry. The reasons milled around in his head: Drezner, these tunnels, Rigle… stopping _his_ people from moving forward… The details were sketchy, but he didn't care. Being angry right now felt _good_.

All that anger, sulking, woe and dread was replaced by awe – though Demorish would never admit it – as they all stepped into a gigantic cavern. Around the walls a shallow moat of filthy water ran, a path going over it to a small mountain in the middle, with steps disappearing into the darkness above. Aradiln bent down to the water, sniffed and murmured: "Smells very… natural. Well, that's alright, then."

Gilbert was just making his way towards the steps when all of a sudden something wailed. Then, a creature descended in front of them. It would have been screaming within an inch of its life, if it had indeed a life, for it was very much dead. The poltergeist was joined by many others, their forms undefined and distorted. They fell upon all five of the adventurers, leaving Gilbert to reach for his warhammer. He was just about to jump into the fray, when he stopped. What he heard wasn't as much a voice as it was a thought, the thought that climbing up that mountain was the best idea in the world right then.

"Gilbert, where are you going?!" yelled Lyra as she tried to fight off to poltergeists with her longsword. She found that when she swung at them the blade would sometimes encounter increasingly thick air until she made contact with something that was, for want of a better word, solid.

"Great, now beardy's gone and ditched us," said Grud as he backed up against the wall, firing bolts from his crossbow that occasionally slowed to a halt inside a poltergeist, rather than hitting it. "What do we do next?"

"What else can we do?!" yelled Aradiln. "We need to get rid of these things!" The "things" in question were advancing, the adventurers' weapons barely affecting them.

Gilbert took no notice of them. As he climbed higher and higher he could hear a faint whispering all around him. He could even start seeing vague shapes, accompanying him as he went.

The poltergeists were closing in on his companions, attacking with weapons rusted with age, their semi-corporeality barely holding the hilts.

Demorish's hands, which had been moving so fast they blurred until a moment ago, rested. "I have run out of spells," he said quietly.

He and four of his companions stood back to back, spirits all around them. "What a way to go," said Lyra, as she sliced through another ghost. "Ganged up on by a bunch of ghosts."

Meanwhile, Gilbert had reached the top. The spirits around him were now fully formed, wailing loudly at him. Though he didn't understand a word they said, their intentions were all too clear: _free us_.

He looked at the amulet resting on a plinth in front of him. It was a perfect orb, shaped out of glass, with mist swirling around inside. He thought he could see faces in there, their mouths open in silent screams. Obeying the spirits' directions, he took the amulet and smashed it on the rock. Immediately, steam seemed to boil out of the crack.

All around, the poltergeists' attack stopped as they started up towards the ceiling. Grud was looking at the dwarf raising the orb, and, hearing Demorish's comment on ghostspeak amulets, said dazedly: "Do you think that if we all swallowed part of it, we could all speak to ghosts?"

This made Aradiln wince. "Can you imagine how that would feel on the way out?!"

All around him them ghosts were rising out of the floor, disappearing through the ceiling. With a last whisper of _thanks are maaaade…._ They were no more.

.o.O.0.O.o.

There was some cheering, rejoicing, and mostly awe at what Gilbert had done. Although he did admit that most of what he did was following the ghosts' guidance, he also kept the cracked amulet, hanging it around his neck by a length of string. And so they went on, Lyra still in fits of laughter as Aradiln and Grud argued on the durability of intestines and glass.

Their good humor was simply as a result of all that emotion breaking loose after the fight. However, they soon found a new reason to be happy: There was, quite literally, a light at the end of the tunnel.

* * *

**A/N: Alright, here ends the angst! For the time being, at any rate...**

**Just to clear up any confusion about the poltergeists, they are semi-corporeal. Different patches of solid, liquid and gas, changing constantly. The thick air description that Lyra uses is quite good. There, confused?**


	7. Rees Mayhem

Chapter 6

**A/N: Well, here we go again, another brick published in the wall. This one is also my longest yet, so to all those with my kind of attention span, try not to fall asleep!**

**As usual, some pronounciation tips:**

**Oh, wait. It seems that this time there are no funny names. In a fantasy story, no less. Imagine that.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

The light at the end of the tunnel… was slightly disappointing.

The thing about the human eye is that it needs time to get used to different levels of brightness. That's why, for instance, if one were in a tunnel, the outside would seem quite bright, even if it was actually pretty dark.

None of the Sponge Quorum thought of this as they stepped out the tunnel. Hence the disappointment. The sun didn't shine, the birds didn't sing; in fact, it was nighttime. Nobody even attacked them. A particularly violent sparrow pecked at Gilbert's head a bit, but it just wasn't the same.

.o.O.0.O.o.

Grud kept blinking, hoping that this would make the darkness go away a bit. "Are we out? I can't tell."

"I…think so," said Lyra through a heavy squint. "See anything, Aradiln? Gilbert?"

Aradiln's eyes, always sharper than those of his human friends, were narrowed. "Yes…Hang on-" He moved aside a few branches that blocked the view. "There."

The rest of the party gasped. Hundreds of flickering lights illuminated hundreds of roofs, sloping away from them towards an inky black sea.

"Hang on!" Islan snapped his fingers in realization. "I know where we are! This is Rees!"

"Rees…" Gilbert mused. "We've gone very far north…Oy!"

Suddenly, dark shadows were upon them. One slammed into Gilbert, but he was instantly dragged up by Islan, who began running. Aradiln, Lyra and Demorish were close behind, with Grud clinging onto Demorish's back.

"Hehehe…" he snickered. "Best mode of transport ever…"

In a minute they were in the city, every shadow a threat, every corner an attacker. There was nowhere to hide. They turned right, they turned left, this way blocked by orcs, that one by goblins. Slowly, there were less and less routes to take. They were being bottlenecked.

Suddenly, a door opened, a hand gesturing urgently at them. _"Quick!"_ a voice whispered. _"Get in!"_

They all rushed in, except for Islan who paused at the door, aanaging to say "But what if it's a—" before he was grabed in and the door slammed.

They all stood there, panting, looking up at their savior. The man in question had to be in his sixties, hunched over, wearing a long tunic, a short, stubby hat and a scowl. He looked at them all before putting a pipe in his mouth and lighting it, then going over to an old rocking chair and sat down.

"Well?" he asked them. "Took you people long enough to get here, eh? What happen, cave in?"

"Um," said Islan, "Who are you?"

The old man chuckled. "True… didn't introduce mesself… Sullivan's the name, and no, no need for you to introduce yerselves," He added as Islan opened his mouth to talk. "I know who you are."

"Wait." This was Demorish. "How do you know who we are, and why are you helping us?" While he spoke there was utter silence. His voice was quiet and deep and stated that Yes, You Will Pay Attention.

Sullivan looked put-off for a second before he shook himself and answered. "'Course I know who you are, everybody does. At least," he scowled at this, "Everybody who's in the know, which unfortunately counts Drezner's men. I'm afraid Young Theldes has done a poor job of being secretive. Yer mission's not such a well-kept secret as we woulda' liked. Not to mention that you lot could've done better- going around End Village and the forest like a marching band… Right down the village main road, I ask you!" by the end of his sentence the old man's scowl was enough to make a snake uncomfortable.

The entire Quorum was doing an impressive impersonation of a snake. Islan, looking very sheepish, said "So… they know we're here?"

"Yup." Sullivan leaned back, puffing on his pipe. "Yer gonna need to leave first thing tomorrow morning, 'cause there's curfew right now and you'd stand out like a pimple on a monkey's butt. Nah…best leave it 'till dawn."

.o.O.0.O.o.

"Islan?"

"Yes?"

The Quorum were all lying on the living room floor, wrapped in old blankets. Lyra was propped up on her elbows, looking at him. "What do you make of Sullivan?"

Islan rubbed the sleep from his eyes, yawned groggily and replied: "He's a crude, nasty old man whom we all owe our lives."

Lyra rolled her eyes. "Yeah, great detective work. I meant if we could trust him."

Islan looked at her for a minute, thinking. "I… I think we can trust him."

"It's just, when I went upstairs to use his toilet…he was still up, holding his crossbow." Lyra looked uncomfortable at this.

'Oh… did he see you?"

"No."

Islan sat up. "Fine… I'll take first shift."

.o.O.0.O.o.

"Oy! Sponges! Up and at it!"

Most people attribute the crowing of a rooster to first light, rather than the bashing of a wooden spoon against a frying pan. This didn't seem to bother Sullivan at all as he used them to wake the Quorum.

Islan groaned as he sifted through the various layers of sleep that occupied his mind. He must've fallen asleep before waking someone up for the next shift… well, at least they knew Sullivan was trustworthy, or- an unpleasant thought, this- he simply had plans for them.

Aradiln was getting up, shaking his head to clear the ringing. Next to him, Gilbert was treating Sullivan to his one of his best glares. "You know, you could've been louder about it."

"Yeah," said the old man. "But I couldn't think how. You kids better get moving, sun's just risen, we don't have much time."

Within ten minutes they were all ready to leave. All but one.

"I must use the facilities," murmured Demorish.

Islan looked at the wizard. Something about him seemed suspicious. "Alright, but hurry! We need to get out of this city and fast."

Demorish went into the small room and looked at the toilet. It was no more than a deep hole in the floor, and it seemed as if Sullivan was shirking his privy-cleaning duties. The smell was extremely colorful. Demorish looked up at the window. Out of it he could see rooftop after rooftop, sloping away to the distant sea…

Half an hour passed.

"Alright! That's it!" yelled Gilbert. "Either that bloody wizard's coming or he isn't, I frankly don't give a damn!"

Islan knocked on the door for the umpteenth time. "Right, Demorish. If you don't come out now I'm coming in!"

Aradiln looked at Grud. "I never thought he actually… you know… does he?"

Grud shrugged. "Only have theories, Ears," he said, eyeing the door suspiciously.

Islan knocked once more. "Demorish? You there?"

Still no answer. Grud altered his position slightly. A slight change in the atmosphere occurred. Thunderstorms gathered somewhere, cold fronts swept across plains, and Sullivan's apartment suddenly tensed. Something was wrong.

"I'm coming in!" Islan took a few steps back, hesitated for a moment, then charged at the door, which swung open. Islan noticed this, and the hole in the floor, and desperately tried to stop. Momentum, however, saw things from a different, more humorous point of view. Islan flew into the room, tripped, and landed face-first in a presentation of nature's base functions.

Grud turned to run, and found a blade at his throat and a hand on his collar. "Going somewhere?" said the elf infuriatingly.

Islan looked up, spitting filth –among other things- out of his mouth, at the open window. He got up, and looked out to see the slope of roves below, and in the distance, a figure navigating the various chimneys and pipes.

With a roar, he clambered out and ran to the edge of the rooftop, and hesitated only momentarily before jumping to the roof opposite.

Back in the room, Gilbert groaned as Lyra ran to the window. "Come on!" she yelled at him.

By the time Gilbert squeezed through the window and out onto the roof, both his human companions were a dozen roofs ahead of him. He ran to the edge, looked dubiously at it, and paused. Gilbert was no fool. He knew all about gravity and was pretty sure it knew about him.

Closing his eyes, he jumped.

.o.O.0.O.o.

Hough the cabbage seller had a pretty much one-track mind. He found it quite difficult to think of more than one thing at a time, and this thing was often green with leaves.

That is why, when a dwarf fell into his cart he simply looked at him and said: "Are… are you a cabbage?"

Gilbert spat out a cabbage. "No," he said.

"Oh, just as well, really."

.o.O.0.O.o.

Three-dozen roofs, Lyra and Islan were getting quite tired. The wizard was only a few roofs ahead of them at this point, and running out of…_ground_ fast.

"We've got him now!" yelled Islan as Demorish disappeared below the roof-line, running towards the shore.

As they climbed down the wall of the last house and pounded on, Aradiln appeared from the streets behind with Grud tied up in tow. Behind him, Gilbert was huffing as he fought to keep up.

Demorish stopped at the waterline, realizing that he was trapped. To the left, rock. To the right, dock. Either way, the idiots would catch up with him pretty quickly.

The rest of the Quorum arrived and surrounded him. Weapons were drawn.

"Give up, Demorish," said Islan. "You're not going anywhere."

"Think of it this way," said Lyra. "Finish this mission and you're free anyway."

Demorish grimaced the grin of the defeated, but those defeated who then get their revenge on you when you least expect it, so there.

.o.O.0.O.o.

"My feet hurt."

"Shut up."

They were dozens of miles away from the city. They had been walking for a few days now, sustained by the provisions Sullivan had packed. They were nearing the straits of Abel. Grud grumbled. This was definitely not what he had in mind when he agreed to go on this crazy mission. A lifetime away form the law was worth two weeks working for it, he had reasoned. Of course, he hadn't expected to be tied up and led towards a dangerous enemy. Well, at least not the dangerous enemy part.

"But I didn't even do anything!" he complained. "It was Cheery here who ran for it, not me."

"Yes, but you might get ideas," Aradiln pointed out. "You're still on probation."

"Ideas? Yeah, very original, Ears." Grud scowled at him. "I know my rights, and you can't do this to me."

Islan turned around. His ears weren't smoking, but it was close. "Your rights?! Let me tell you, you, you little thieving bastard: you're a criminal. You've got no rights. If you try and escape, you endanger our mission."

"And what's that mission, exactly?" asked the gnome derisively. "Last I head, the king wants intelligence, not a heroic stand against the forces of evil."

Islan hesitated. "We…we go to wherever the orcs are coming from and… look around."

"And by 'look around', you mean stop him? This Drezner guy's serious stuff. He won't just let his guard down."

"Funny you should mention that." Gilbert joined in. "We've gone through miles and miles of tunnels, I'd guess more than a hundered over the past week or so. We've passed Rees, right? How come we haven't encountered any resistance?"

"Well," said Islan dubiously. "there was Graundheim, wasn't there? The Rahadin _did_ capture us. And Rees, too. If it weren't for Sullivan here," Sullivan raised his hand in acknowledgement, "We'd have been done for."

"Still," maintained Gilbert. "We haven't been stopped by any patrols. Knowing Drezner, he wouldn't be so sloppy."

"That's not his style," said Sullivan. "He uses fear. Instead of blockading a city, he uses surveillance. Any messenger who leaves, he snuffs him out. It's more efficient, and creates an air of uncertainty."

They were silent for a while. Drezner definitely knew they were coming, there was no escaping that.

It got dark.

Sullivan turned around. "Well, here's where I leave you. The straits are up ahead, there's a bridge. The tunnels continue on the other side for a bit, we're not sure how long."

Thanks were exchanged, as were farewells. "You sure you don't want to come along?" asked Lyra as she hugged the old man.

"A suicide mission like this? No way. Abarack is uncharted territory for me. Just… be careful, right?"

Islan shook his hand. "You bet."

The old man laughed, giving Gilbert a spare torch. Then he was off, a light fading in the tunnel.

They went on walking.

"You know," said Gilbert abruptly. "I still can't shake the feeling that Drezner is expecting us."

Just then, a large creature pounced on him.

It was a huge cat, or at least, up to a point. From the waist down, it was a large, green fish. On its back was a saddle, which was itself sandwiched between the creature's back and a Localoth. It yelled something incoherent, a deep, bubbling sound. It had a spear. And friends.

Six more Localoths jumped onto the path, having presumably been clinging onto the cliff face. Immediately they charged at the Quorum, waving their spears. Islan and Lyra had only just managed to draw their swords before the fish-men were upon them, and they were retreating quickly against the cliff face .Gilbert wasn't badly hurt, and pulled out his warhammer just before another lolacloth attacked him.

Aradiln had rushed to where Grud and Demorish were standing, tied up. "Will you help?" he asked them.

Grud groaned and said "Of course, now get on with it!" Demorish merely nodded.

Once freed, the two criminals, together with Aradiln, joined the fray. With their help, Islan, Gilbert and Lyra managed to subdue a few Localoths, but then the mounted one charged. Without even thinking, Aradiln jumped up on the seacat as it headed his way, his elbow delivering a lucky blow to the rider. It fell off with a gurgle, and he was left alone to try and control the beast.

"Yeeeehaaaa!!!" he yelled as it bucked and turned. It knocked out several Localoths before it finally threw Aradiln off and jumped off the path and into the sea.

The last Localoth still conscious backed up against a wall, babbling nonstop. Demorish was immediately beside him, his hand glowing. A blast of ice-cold air knocked the creature out. The rest of the Quorum stood there panting.

Islan picked up the rope thoughtfully, then put it away in his pack. "I suppose you two have proven that… in a tight spot, you'd help rather than run." He smiled at them. "Come on… we've got to get going."

"Hey, Aradiln?"

"Yes, Gilbert?"

"Those Localoths, what did they say? You know, just before they died?"

Aradiln's face was screwed up in an effort to remember the creatures' words. "Well, one said: 'A thousand curses upon your loved ones.'"

"And the other?" asked the dwarf.

"'Oh shit, I think I left the kettle on.'" Came the reply.

Gilbert stared at his friend for a moment, then said, "Weird."

The bridge was up ahead. Long and rickety, it swung dangerously in the breeze. At its end was the State of Abarack.

* * *

**A/N: Whew! My fingers are still itching, so expect the next (and last) chapter out soon.**

**Apparently you can use kettles underwater. With no fire, it must be interesting.**

**For simplicity's sake, I've had to rework how the tunnels beyond rees look like. Basically, it's just a ledge carved into the face of the cliff.**

**No, not even I dare imagine what horrors go on when Demorish takes a dump.**


	8. Drezner I

Chapter 7

**A/N: ****These past four months are what I'd like to call a **_**hiatus**_**, although a better word would be **_**laziness**_**. Me and my beta decided that Drezner deserved more attention than he was getting, so the previously short fight scene became a two-part behemoth. The next part is nearly done, so expect it not in four months, not in one, but in less than a fortnight! Personally, after wringing this chapter out in every which way I could, I think I'm satisfied. **

**Is the bad guy bored while he waits for ****the**** heroes to show up for the oh-so-clichéd final showdown? Do****es**** he really wait, or ****is**** he making constant plans to stop the heroes in their tracks? Well, no, not in this case. This man isn't the moustache-twirling, crazy-laughing character. This villain's read the book, and has decided it needs a new chapter. Meet Drezner, an all-round bad guy.**

Abarack is a very small country, mostly full of thick forests and mountains. Near the south are some small villages and towns, but no real government to speak of. The senate, whose seat is in the north of the country, is old and weak, relying on bureaucracy and stronger nations to remain in charge. It is the kind of place a power-hungry, charismatic general can do as he pleases.

This specific general knows it, and is taking full advantage of the situation to bring down a kingdom.

He doesn't invade. He doesn't attack. He waits for his prey, and allows it to roam away from the rest of the herd.

The Quorum is very far from its herd.

.o.O.0.O.o.

Gilbert had previously wondered why the Quorum had evaded detection so easily. As a matter of fact, they had been spied on every inch of the way. The inch we are currently concerned with is at the tip of the Eve Peninsula, where the Quorum had just defeated a band of localoths and crossed into Abarack. The "spy" in question was squinting at their approaching figures from the opposite side of the strait, in a concealed outpost. He turned around to his table, scribbled something on a piece of paper and tied it to a trained seagull's leg. The seagull took off quickly.

The next day, the bird arrived at the main intelligence office in the town of Ber. The clerk on duty read the note, gasped and hastily gave it to a young boy, who ran with it to the outskirts of the town.

He slowed as he reached a large stone formation. A castle straddled the two slabs that made up the entrance to a large tunnel in the rock. Gasping for breath, he gave the note to the large and hairy ogre guarding the entrance, who pocketed it and went inside. The guard reached a desk, saluted, and handed the message to the man sitting behind it.

This man was the Grand Minister of Abarack. He scanned the note, raised an eyebrow and dismissed the ogre. He turned to the rather impressive double-doors behind him, knocked, and entered. The room was enormous. Marble columns supported the long, arched ceiling, tapestries hanging every few feet. At the very end of the hall, a good thirty feet from where the minister stood, was a simple throne, and on it sat a tall, intimidating man. His intense glare was felt all the way across the room.

The Grand Minister approached the throne, leaned over, and whispered something in the man's ear.

Drezner's mouth curled into a satisfied smile.

.o.O.0.O.o.

"My lord!"

Two days later, Drezner looked up from his food.

The Grand Minister stood before him, head bowed in proper humility. None of Drezner's men were very disciplined, but they knew well the consequences of insolence.

"You may speak."

The man's eyes were fixed firmly on his feet, a less frightening sight than his master's face.

"A patrol squad found two bodies just outside the tunnels, sir. They have been identified as two of our own. Thurog and Mott, sir. They were on guard duty. It would appear somebody had assaulted them."

"I see." Drezner got up, and went to the large window near his throne. The window overlooked the nearby town, enabling Drezner to see anything that happened in the few dozen huts that were apparently called Ber. Holding his hands behind his back, robes shifting slightly in the breeze, he turned his face slightly towards his minister. "Search the tower. Dispatch our most experienced men. I want clean and efficient detainment."

The Grand Minister bowed himself out of the room, a look of relief on his face. Drezner allowed himself another brief moment of satisfaction. When he had been approached by his master to formulate a plan for invading Lyrasia, he knew that this was his chance to achieve greatness. Slowly, he built his strategy. A full scale invasion would be foolish – after all, everyone knew about Lyrasia's bloody heritage. This had to be done slowly. Infiltrate the decadent kingdom from within and cut off the capital from the rest of the country. He was expecting resistance, but there hadn't been any serious threats. He and his men had located and disabled many of Theldes' leading generals, his most powerful paladins. This group of bumbling fools had been the king's latest feeble attempt to seek intelligence. So far, things were running relatively smoothly, despite one or two unexpected hurdles. For one thing, he hadn't expected said fools to make it this far. Either they were more skillful than he'd given them credit for, or they were simply lucky. Never mind… he'd snuff them out today, and tomorrow - tomorrow would see the fall of Lyrasia, and the rise of Drezner the cleric. Drezner the _king_.

Drezner rubbed his eyes. _Focus. _He must not be caught off guard. The fools had managed to get past both Graundheim and Rees. He would have to exercise utmost care. No overconfidence, no failure. No mistakes.

There was a knock on the door. That was probably the grand minister with news of success. He sat back on his throne and, elbows on the long armrests, steepled his fingers. He smiled. Evil, but not cocky. Keep it wary, but confident. Terrifying, too. Don't forget threatening.

"Enter," he said, an evil, wary, confident, terrifying and threatening smile on his face.

.o.O.0.O.o.

"He's awake, sir."

"Good."

Slowly, Gilbert's eyes began working properly, giving him an idea of his surroundings. A face swam into view.

"Listen carefully, master Apelycus. Do you know where you are?"

Gilbert's head was pounding. "Not really… what happened?"

The face was slowly coming into focus. "You were hit on the head."

Gilbert's head was furrowed in pain. "What?"

"Do you know what's going to happen now?" The face was barely recognizable, but just barely.

"What? No…" mumbled the dwarf.

"You are going to die."

Gilbert's mind snapped to attention, and recognition hit his face like a sledgehammer as he stared at his captor.

"You!"

Drezner smiled. The rest of the Quorum may have evaded capture, but at least one of his men had succeeded. And the bounty was all the better for _who_ it was that he had managed to capture. He smiled.

"Me," he said, and smashed a large mace into Gilbert's face.

.o.O.0.O.o.

Islan's head was spinning. This was not how things were supposed to work out.

"Right," he said desperately to the rest of the group. "We came out of the tunnels… jumped those two orcs…"

"Piece of cake," remarked Grud cockily.

Islan looked at him for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He took a deep breath. "We got in…"

Demorish nodded slightly. "A minor illusion. The guard was easily fooled."

"Yes…" Islan said vaguely. "Now, I specifically remember Gilbert talking about the people in this building, two floors ago …"

"Yes," agreed Aradiln. "He was saying something about how everybody here wouldn't even look at us, as though they were afraid of seeing something they were not allowed to. Let's face it, no one's tried to stop us."

"So where is he?" asked Islan desperately. "He wouldn't have just wandered off, would he?"

"No…" Aradiln was frowning. "But frankly, I don't see what we can do about it right now."

Lyra put a hand on Islan's shoulder. "He's right. We had best be moving on," she said determinedly.

"I suppose." Islan squared his shoulders and took the lead. They were going to end this.

Back when they'd first met, Gilbert had warned him about Drezner. Now, those warnings resurfaced, along with the old dwarf's remarks back in Rees. _Since Drezner was so powerful, how come they weren't dead yet?_

.o.O.0.O.o.

"Did you really think I was just another crackpot ordering goblins around?" Drezner's impressive figure paced the throne room. At one side, sprawled on the spotless marble floor, was a very weak Gilbert, his face a bloody mass. He struggled to stay conscious.

"Well," Drezner turned his face to the defeated dwarf, "I'm not. You may have evaded capture until now, but the end result is the same. Your pitiful excuse for a Quorum is lost, wandering alone in my castle, while your king sits back in Gal, not knowing that his only hope is at my feet… so to speak. Don't you see? You've practically defeated yourselves. All I have to do is snuff you out, and then I can get on with my plans. You've failed."

He looked at the sorry sight before him. "You know, you're really pathetic. I've always held you in contempt, just like your father, but now I see just how weak you are…"

He strode around the room, an amused smirk on his face. "You want to change dwarves?! You want an open and free society? How can you wish freedom for a people that makes it so easy for others to control them? I must say… exploiting the dwarves of Lyrasia really was a masterstroke. They kept my tunnels nice and safe, dark and secret, so I could come out of the shadows and silence your world. It was so _easy."_

Gilbert followed the cleric around with his eyes, glaring at him. It was all he could do to stay conscious and hope that his friends would make it to the room in time.

Drezner still wasn't done. As he looked at Gilbert, an evil smile spread across his face. "But you, you thought your people had hope. You labored through the tunnels and darkness to stop me. Didn't Graundheim teach you anything? You _fail_."

There was a sudden crash outside. A man yelled.

"Ah." Drezner turned to the door, his mace at the ready, as Gilbert finally drowned in the quicksand of unconsciousness beside him.


End file.
